


les cloches (the bells)

by orphan_account



Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [11]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Apologies, Bells, Churches & Cathedrals, Dom Armie Hammer, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hell, I Love You, M/M, Oral Sex, Religion, Rough Sex, Sort Of, Spit As Lube, Sub Timothée Chalamet, anal penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Timmy and Armie have a spiritual experience.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087184
Kudos: 24





	les cloches (the bells)

On Saturday afternoon, the day after he had his stitches removed, Timothée rolled over in bed and lay against Armie with his hair in his eyes. He could faintly hear the bells ringing from the nearby church, the Basilica and Shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. 

At first he had taken no notice of them, being from the most crowded, noisy city in the country. If anything, he loved Boston because it provided a sort of respite from the constant stimulation...at least in some respects.

Having lived in the neighborhood for the span of about two weeks, he noticed when the bells rang to call the faithful to Mass - at 7AM and noon every weekday, 8AM and noon on Saturday, plus the 4PM vigil Mass and at 9AM, 11:30AM, and 2PM on Sundays. If he were ever to lose his phone and for some reason have no access to a clock, Timothée figured that he could keep time by the bells.

“Those poor saps,” he muttered abruptly, staring at the ceiling. “They spend hours on end, every day or every week, sitting down in stiff, freezing cold pews while a man in a dress tells them they’re all going to burn for eternity in Hell for being themselves. Fuck that.”

“Huh.” Armie chuckled and slung his arm over Timothée’s shoulder. “Maybe. I can’t say anything about Catholics, but that’s pretty much how it was growing up going to Assemblies of God and Baptist churches, and hours upon hours of revivals and camp meetings.” He shuddered. “If they’ve got it right, we’re definitely going to feel the burn. _‘What we’ve done did here, it just ain’t natural!'_."

Timothée laughed and kissed his cheek. “Oh well. At least it’ll be warm.” He leaned on the pillow on his elbow, watching Armie. Their legs were entangled under the sheets. He rested his hand on Armie’s waist, a tacit possessive gesture. 

So soon in their relationship, he was still painfully insecure, frantically afraid that Armie would get bored and just decide to up and leave him, in spite of Armie’s frequent declarations of love and assurances.

“You got that right,” Armie murmured. He turned to Timothée and buried his face in his stomach, licking the thin lines of scar tissue. “Mmm.” He smacked his lips. “Goddamn it, Timmy.”

Timothée wrapped his arms around Armie’s back. He gently tugged him and rolled until their positions were reversed. He could feel the brush of Armie’s eyelashes when he blinked, the soft puffs of his breath.

He raised himself over Armie and splayed his hand across his chest. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Jesus,” Armie moaned. He tilted his head back, his throat pale, his cock thickening against Timothée’s hip. He slid his hand down Armie’s chest and covered the tip. Armie gasped and gripped the sheets beside him. Timothée slid down until he was lying between Armie’s spread legs. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and lightly licked the head. Armie groaned and arched toward him.

Timothée grunted. He pressed down on Armie’s hips to keep him anchored as he kissed and sucked him, his eyes glowing lasciviously. Armie wanted to grab Timothée, to roll around and cover him, but Timothée wouldn’t let him get away with that. He would bite him or slap him or both. The idea nearly made Armie come in Timothée’s mouth.

Timothée let go of him with a soft, wet smack of his lips, the only thing that stopped Armie’s release. Timothée rose up over him, sitting on top of his chest. The scent of sweat and musk and Timothée’s own natural BO merged and nearly overwhelmed Armie as Timothée held him pinned down as he reached back and stroked and scratched his cock and balls with his fingernails.

Timothée slid the tip along the curve of his butt and grinned sadistically when Armie pulsed in his hand with a rough sob. He grabbed Timothée’s shoulders, his nails digging in deep enough to draw blood. “Timmy?” he rasped. “What are you -”

Timothée moved forward, letting go of Armie just when he couldn’t stand it anymore. He knelt over Armie with his hands pressed to the wall and his cock dangling in front of him. He moaned when Armie took him into his mouth. Armie nipped and suckled Timothée, loving the way he could taste him and make him shudder and moan and cry out his name.

“Armie! That’s enough. Come on, I want you inside of me. I want to feel you.”

With some effort, he moved back, turning Timothée over. He knelt down on his knees and elbows. Armie gripped Timothée’s hip roughly with one hand, spat into the other, and shallowly rubbed himself before he spread Timothée’s cheeks and thrust into him. Timothée flinched and cried out. He took a deep breath and hung his head on his arm, nearly overwhelmed with the sensation.

“Timmy? Baby, say something. Are you alright?” Armie struggled to be still. He pressed his lips to Timothée’s back.

“Mm. Yeah, I’m alright. Why did you stop, Armie? Keep going.”

Armie ran his tongue over Timothée’s lower back. He gripped his hips, going deep in one fierce thrust. Timothée sobbed, but it was pleasure laced with pain. Armie felt a pang of guilt and joy as he took him. He groaned as he filled Timothée, dragging him back against him. He cried out as his body seized and shuddered, filling him with his seed.

Timothée’s body went slack in Armie’s hold. Armie sat back and reached around him, his left hand on his chest, holding him in place. He could feel Timothée’s heart pound in his ribcage. With his right hand, Armie stroked him slowly, until Timothée panted and began to rise to meet his strokes. Armie quickened his pace and squeezed him harder.

“Timmy. Baby, I’m sorry if I was too rough with you. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up,” Timothée whispered. He leaned further back against him. “You only did what I wanted you to. Stop apologizing, it’s sweet, but...it's kind of a turn off. Uh oh.”

Timothée braced himself, squeezing Armie’s knees as he came with a low moan all over Armie’s hand, the headboard, and the wall. Timothée collapsed back into Armie’s waiting arms. Armie stretched out so that Timothée lay in his hold, curled around his thin body. Armie’s heartbeat still pounded in his ears.

There was a series of purple, finger-shaped bruises along Timothée’s hips, and a small stream of blood and cum trickled from his hole. Armie reached out to touch him, gently tracing his fingers over Timothée’s bruised hips.

Timothée winced. “Ugh, don’t touch me there. It...hurts,” he murmured drowsily. “W-wait. I mean...it does hurt, but it feels good, too. And…”

He yawned and mumbled sleepily. “I know you may get tired of hearing this, but...it bears repeating. I love you, Armie. I really do.”

Armie reached out and touched Timothée’s hair. He brushed his hand tenderly over his cheek. “No baby, I'll never get tired of hearing it. I love you.”

Armie held Timothée close. He felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and listened to his breathing deepen as he gradually fell asleep.

In the distance, Armie also heard the clang of the church bells, signaling the end of the service.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if the Basilica rings its bells before and after every worship service or not.
> 
> On that note, I also want to reiterate that any observations or inclusions of religious imagery and/or doctrine is not specifically intended to be offensive. 
> 
> Suffice it to say I have kind of a chip on my shoulder about certain aspects of organized religion and its effect on human beliefs and behavior.
> 
> Stay safe, everyone, and happy Saturday. Shabbat shalom. ✡️✌️


End file.
